up, as in yonder archway, a Saracenic head or two in terrorem to all infidels, and as a kind of preliminary counterbalance, would no doubt accept, and turn to their own purposes, and, we must own, we think very sensibly, whatever infidel genius might have sent them across the scas. They who knew so well the effect of appealing to man's entire rather than to his partial nature only were not likely to reject any means that offered. From the moment he entered the sacred building, they took possession at once of his eye, ear, heart, and mind; and no wonder that afterwards they could turn him towards what point they pleased of the theological heaven. Of course this was a glorious field for abuses, and abuses sprung up with a strength and luxuriance that not only overpowered the flowers Art had strewed abroad, but almost concealed the goodly temple of Religion itself. Then it was that the early Church reformers arose in their strength, one by one. The "sour" Puritans, as in our one-sided vision we call them, because, secing the Herculean task before them, they went to their work with the hands and heart of a Hercules, cutting away, might and main, on all sides; marking every step with their blocd, as they waged unequal war with the multitudes ready to defend what they sought to destroy, but still pressing on till the whole-confession and indulgence, bulls, pardons, and relics, or by whatever name the noxious growths were known-were rooted up;-and with them the flowers went too. Well, we have at last a pure soil to raise them upon once more; for the successors of the Puritans (a thousand times worse than them, for they debased art, whilst the others at worst only kept it in abeyance) have gone into the same final receptacle of all error-oblivion. And so, commending the fine passage here following, from the writings of an eminent Protestant divine, to the consideration of those, if there are any such, who still doubt the value, in a spiritual sense, of such exhibitions as the Temple Church now affords, we shall proceed forward into the scene that for the last hour has been drawing our eyes, at intervals, most wistfully towards it. Bishop Horne says, "We cannot by our gifts profit the Almighty, but we may honour him, and profit ourselves; for, while man is man, religion, like man, must have a body and a soul: it must be external as well as internal; and the two parts, in both cases, will ever have a mutual influence upon each other. The senses and the imagination must have a considerable share in public worship; and devotion will accordingly be depressed or heightened by the mean, sordid, and dispiriting, or the fair, splendid, and cheerful appearance of the objects around us.”

We could hardly suggest a better way of preventing the imagination of a reader from conceiving the true character and effect of the oblong portion of the Temple Church than by giving a careful and accurate architectural description, the process would be so unlike that which informs the spectator who is on the spot. The view impressed at once upon the eye of the latter is what is desiderated for the former-is what words of the most general, rapid, and suggestive character can very inadequately convey—and is what systematic description cannot give at all. We need hardly, therefore, say we shall not attempt the latter course; and as to the alternative, we cannot but feel how such glowing and various beauty as that before us becomes chilled in the very attempt to resolve it into words. Yet, if the imagination can be stirred

by external influences, it should be, indeed, active here. As we enter, let us step into the corner on the right. The first impression is of a mingled nature: a sense of the stateliest architectural magnificence, supporting and enveloped by the richest and most playful combinations of fairy-like beauty of decoration, cach lending to each its own characteristics in the making of so harmonious a whole. Thus, the marble pillars, of a dark rich huc, beautifully veined, seem to flow rather than to tower upwards to meet the gay but delicate arabesqued roof, until, above the capitals, they suddenly expand their groins like so many embracing arms all over it, receiving at the same time from the roof a sprinkling of its own rich store of hues. See, too, how those magnificent arches, spanning so airily the wide space from pillar to pillar, and viewed from hence under so many combinations of near and remote-aisle, centre and aisle-those Atlases of the structure, see how content they are to serve as frameworks for the pictures scen through and above them, and, like all true strength, to look only the more graceful in their strength for the flowery chains which have been twined around them. The entire architecture of the Church, indeed, which is esteemed "decidedly the most exquisite specimen of pointed architecture existing," scems to give one the idea of its having thrown off the air of antiquity which time has not unnaturally imparted to it, and to start into a second youth, lustrous with all those peculiar graces which youth alone possesses. The lancet windows of the opposite side, beautiful alike in themselves and in relation to the architecture around, but undecorated, alone fail to add their tones to the general glow of splendour; though they still look so beautiful that one could fancy they borrowed a reflection from the latter; and, as we turn to the perfect blaze of colours and gilding at the east end of the chancel, it might be supposed that the wealth that would have been reasonably sufficient for the whole of the windows, has been concentrated in those three at the sides of and above the altar. In examining the smaller parts of which this sumptuous whole is composed, the attention again is naturally attracted first to the ceiling, as was no doubt the case originally; for, in taking down the plaster and paint covering, not only were traces of decorative painting found, but also rich ornaments worked in gold and silver. The chief objects which stand out from the elaborate but everywhere light and graceful arabesques are the small circular compartments scattered over the entire roof, one in each of the natural divisions formed by the groins, and containing alternately the lamb on a red ground and the flying horse on a blue. varied in the aisle, where we see the banner half black and half white," because they [the Templars] were and showed themselves wholly white and fair towards the Christians, but black and terrible to them that were miscreants,"* and with the letters BE AVSEAN, for Beauseant, their equally dreaded war-cry. This banner was changed in the reign of Stephen for the red Maltese-like cross on a white ground, which forms another of the devices; and a third is copied from the seal of Milo de Stapleton, a member of the order, which still exists in the British Museum, attached to a charter of the date of 1320: this represents the cross of

These are

* Favyne (Theatre of Honour); referred to in Mr. Willement's account, in 'The Temple Church,' by William Burge, Esq.

Christ raised above the crescent of the Saracen, with a star on each side. As we now move on towards the painted windows of the east end, we perceive, among other interesting minutiæ, the pious inscriptions, in Latin and in antique characters, that every here and there decorate and inform the wall with their stern threatenings to the wicked, their sweet and elevating consolations to the weary and heavily laden, their admonitions to all to remember the uses of the glorious structure the end of all the solemn pomp around. That long inscription commencing in the north-west corner against the entrance to the aisle, and running all down that side, across the east end, then again along here at our back, till it finishes on the wall of the entrance archway close to the spot from which it started, is the Te Deum.' Drawing still nearer to the western extremity, is it fancy only that suggests the sense of growing richness-an effect as though the whole compartment beyond the two last pillars was lit up by some peculiar but unseen radiance? The general character of the decoration evidently has not changed. As we look, however, upon the roof attentively, we perceive that, whilst with the most subtle art the eye has not been warned of any sudden or striking alteration, the whole has been altered, the hues have grown deeper-the arabesques more elaborate the whole more superb: yet still as remote as ever from garish or unseemly display: as fitting a prelude to the gorgeous castern windows that illumine the compartment, as they are both suitable accessories of the altar beneath-resplendent in burnished gold-exquisite alike in its architecture and sculpture; whilst all-roof, windows, and altar, form most appropriately in every sense the culminating point of beauty of the Temple Church; the grand close of the beautiful vista through which we have advanced. The central or chief window is most rich in its storied panes, containing, as it does, a numerous series of designs from the life of Christ, conspicuous among which appears the Crucifixion. The variety and sumptuousness of the details are beyond description. Over all the immense space occupied by the window, you can scarcely find one piece of unbroken colour two inches square: how great then the artistical skill that can combine such minute fragments into so splendid a work; and, one would suppose, how tedious the process! Here we must venture to suggest a fault, or what appears to us to be one, and we find that others have also noticed it. The prevailing colours are blue and ruby, with-less prominently-green. It is, we believe, generally admitted that one of the principles of the ancient artists was vivid distinctness of colour: here, on the contrary, the blue and red mingle into something very like purple. This is less perceptible in the two side windows, and not at all in the one in the centre of the church facing the organ-loft. We have heard that this is owing to the use of a particular kind of red in the first, and which was not used in the last. This window is, in consequence, more brilliant-looking and pure in its masses of colour; and though these are confined to the figures of the angels playing antique musical instruments, one in each sidelight, and three in the middle one, the remainder of its ornaments consisting chiefly of mere dark pencilled scrolls, covering the entire surface, yet so striking is the contrast, so chaste and beautiful the result, that if we were asked whether it be really true that the Art so long lost is reviving among us, we should desire to give no better answer than a reference to this window. But, hark! there wanted

but one influence to complete the spell that seems to possess this place, and all who enter, and it comes. A few preluding notes, the first big drops as it were of rain amid sunshine, and out bursts the divine tempest of harmony from the mighty organ. Roof, walls, windows disappear; the Temple is for the moment nothing—we are borne up by the magnificent volume of sound, the willing sport of the elements, tossed to and fro. But divine is the power that moves-the voice so potent to stir stirs not idly; from the glorious turmoil steals out the lowest and gentlest of tones; you would catch it-you listen, and lo ! its whisper is already ascending from your heart. But alas! some visitor, deaf to the "concord of sweet sounds," recalls us to earth, to reflect how near we had been to heaven. "O, the power of church music!" of church music!" And thankful may we be that in this, as well as in the other arrangements, the Benchers of the Temple are actuated by the right feeling, as they are gratifying that feeling by a judicious liberality. The choir, consisting of fourteen voices (six men and eight boys), is to be permanent, and brought as speedily as possible to a high state of excellence. The organ, it is generally known, is one of the finest in this country, and has an amusing history attached to it. About the end of the reign of Charles II. the Societies determined on the erection of an organ; the two great builders of that time were Schmidt, or Father Smith (for-the correct appellation being too hard, we presume, for English ears-so he was called), and Harris. Of course they were rivals; and as cach desired to have confided to him the erection of an organ which was to be supreme in its excellence, and as each was supported by numerous patrons and partisans, the Benchers were somewhat puzzled how to decide. Their solution of the problem was worthy of the acknowledged acumen of the profession. They proposed to the candidates that each should erect an organ in the church, and that they would then keep the best. The proposal was accepted, and in nine months two organs appeared in the Temple. Did any of our readers ever witness the débût of two rival prima donnas at an opera-the crowded tiers upon tiers of faces, the cager anticipation, the excitement, the applause replying to applause? Some such scene, modified only by the peculiarity of the place, appears to have attended the débût of the two organs. First, Blow and Purcell performed on appointed days on Father Smith's great work. The getting such coadjutors must have rather startled Harris; but there was still Mons. Lully, and he did full justice to his organ. Which was best? The Smithians unanimously agreed Smith's; the opposite party remained in opposition, and equally single-minded. Month after month the competition continued, for the space of a year, when Harris challenged Smith to make certain new reed stops within a fixed period, and then renew the trial. This was done, and to the delight of every body. But a choice was more difficult than ever. Each was evidently the best organ in the world except the other. The matter began to grow serious. Violence and bad feeling broke out, and the consequences to the candidates became in many ways so injurious, that they are said to have been "just not ruined." Lord Chief-Justice Jefferies was at last empowered to decide, and we have now before us the organ he favoured -Smith's! We have already mentioned the former position of this instrument, its present one was only adopted after a long and anxious deliberation, in which gentlemen of no less importance than Messrs. Etty, Sidney Smirke, Cottingham,

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Blore, Willement, and Savage took part; and, certainly, the decision is not unworthy of the collective wisdom. It now stands in a chamber built behind, and rather larger in every way than the central window on the northern side; an arrangement that left the noble view unobstructed which we have shown in a previous page, and which required no other adaptation of the window than the mere removal of the glass, and the walls of division between the lights. The classicalities have been ruthlessly swept away, and you now see its gilded and gailydecorated pipes rising majestically upwards towards the Gothic pinnacles which crown it, rich in fretwork, and beautifully relieved against the painted roof of the light chamber behind. In a little vestry-room beneath are the bust of Lord Thurlow, who was buried in the Temple vaults, and the tablet of Oliver Goldsmith, who was buried in the churchyard. The last was set up at the expense of the Benchers, a few years ago, as graceful and honourable, as it was, of course, a spontaneous acknowledgment of the poet's burial in their precincts. These, with other memorials, will be shortly removed into the gallery surrounding the upper part of the Round, where Plowden, the eminent lawyer, lies in effigy beneath a semi-circular canopy-one of those heavy masses of stone, paint, and gilding, obelisks, death's heads and flowers, that so delighted our Elizabethan forefathers, accompanied by various others of the same kind. At the back of the seats occupied during service by the Benchers' ladies, on a black stone against the wall, we read the inscription-Joannes Seldenvs-a name that needs little comment. He was," says Wood ('Athena'), "a great philologist, antiquary, herald, linguist, statesman, and what not!" He died in 1654. Of the remaining details of the church, we can only enumerate the carved benches, with their endless variety of heads, animals, and of flowers and fruit, copies from similar works preserved in our cathedrals; the sumptuous accessories of the altar, as the crimson velvet cloth with its gold embroidery; the ambry and piscina discovered on the removal of the "right wainscot " that formerly covered the lower part of the wall; the arch with the effigy of the bishop beneath it who is mentioned in our former paper, in the south-east corner; the penitential cell, also there referred to, which is on the side of the circular stairs leading up to the Triforium, in the wall of the archways between the Rotunda and chancel; and lastly, the portraits of the kings which decorate the upper part of these arches, namely-Henry I., Stephen, Henry II., Richard I., John, and Henry III., monarchs who were all, more or less, benefactors to the Temple; with the reign of the first of whom the order started into existence, and with the last, virtually terminated. Henry's successor, Edward I., gave unequivocal evidence of his desire to help himself to a little of the Templars' wealth, instead of conferring some of his own on them; and his successor suppressed them, A.D. 1308. We must add, that those who would know to whom we are indebted for the painted windows throughout the church, the roof, and, indeed, the decorations generally, will see in the northern window of the three at the cast end, if they look carefully, the following words: "Willement hoc opus fecit." The chief architectural works were commenced from the plan and under the superintendence of Mr. Savage, and (through some private differences) completed by Mr. Decimus Burton and Mr. Sidney Smirke. The carvings are by Mr. Nash. Already the public are